


Breakfast in Bed

by GuardianofFun



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Acting Like Kids, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Breakfast in Bed, Established Relationship, Fluff, Future Fic, Lazy Mornings, M/M, Messing about
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-16 14:25:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10573140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuardianofFun/pseuds/GuardianofFun
Summary: A lazy Saturday, safe on Earth, and Trip's gonna spoil his husband rotten.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cosmo_is_Beink_Melon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cosmo_is_Beink_Melon/gifts).



> Pris told me to stop writing so much damn angst, so I wrote her some fluff! 
> 
> We're all ignoring TATV here, right?

Malcolm Reed woke up confused, tangled in the sheets and alone. He wrestled with the duvet for a moment before tugging a hand free and grabbing the alarm on the table beside the bed. Nine, an hour later than he usually got up on a Saturday. Grumbling about the unreliable nature of clocks, he added fixing the alarm to Trip’s list of chores for the weekend. 

Speaking of his chief engineer of a husband, their bedroom was completely empty. Slightly confused, Malcolm stumbled from bed and wandered into the ensuite bathroom. He ran a hand over his face as he stared at his reflection above the sink and yawned. Oversleeping never did him any good, if anything he woke up even more tired. Grumbling, he tugged off the cotton pyjama bottoms and slipped into the shower. It ran cold at first, waking him up before he dunked his head under hotter water to rinse it through. 

It was only as he was massaging shampoo through his dark locks that he remembered his late start to the morning. Cutting his shower short, he rinsed the bubbles and reached for a towel to sling around his waist. He grabbed a toothbrush with one hand, and a smaller towel with the other and managed to dry his hair and clean his teeth in under five minutes. As he dropped his brush back in the pot beside Trip’s he heard the door creak in the bedroom, followed by a sigh. 

Curious, he poked his head around the door. Trip (who was fully dressed in his normal Saturday loungewear) stood facing the bed, his back towards Malcolm. There was something in his arms, which he set down on the bed. Malcolm stepped out as he turned, and there was a mock frown on his face. 

“Really Mal, is a lie in that difficult?” he asked, strolling over and pulling Malcolm close for a hug. Malcolm scoffed into Trip’s chest, smiling to himself at the smell of freshly laundered clothes and Trip’s citrusy body wash. 

“I have a routine Mr. Tucker, and I like to stick to it,” he grumbled lightheartedly. 

“Well not today,” Trip said, dropping a kiss on his forehead. Malcolm peered up, lost. “What’s today?” he asked, with genuine confusion. Trip sighed and dragged him towards the bed, where a tray ladened with food lay. 

“Happy birthday Malcolm,” he said, squeezing the Englishman’s hand. Malcolm’s lips parted with surprise. 

“That’s today? I hadn’t realised,” he said, honestly. Trip grinned and tugged him  onto the bed. Malcolm’s hand instantly went to catch the tray as the mattress shifted under their weight, but Trip’s hand beat him to it. Small moments like that made Malcolm flush with quiet joy; the signs of a ten year long relationship that was built on a strong friendship and mutual understanding. He let himself be arranged into a nest of pillows in the middle of the bed, and then watched as Trip slid in beside him and plonked the tray on his lap. 

A huge stack of freshly baked pancakes, an unopened jar of peanut butter, an almost overflowing bowl of pineapple chunks and a sinful looking chocolate muffin were crammed onto the tray. Malcolm’s mouth watered at the sight. 

“You didn’t have t-” Trip’s hand batted at his nose. 

“Shut up, of course I did.” He reached out to squeeze Malcolm’s hand again. “I love you.” Malcolm grabbed at a chunk of pineapple with his free hand and grinned. 

“I love you too. Thank you,” he said, popping the fruit into his mouth. 

They spent most of the morning in bed, slowly making their way through the food, in between kisses and gentle touches. When at last the final crumbs had been licked from thumbs, Trip leant back with a devilish smile. He reached under the bed and pulled out a package wrapped in gaudy paper, topped with a bright green bow.

Malcolm shook his head but accepted it without protest. He wondered what the oddly misshapen package could be, seeing as he was notoriously difficult to buy for. Trip nodded, prompting him to open it. Deft fingers made short work of the bow and the paper slipped open. 

The gun that fell into his lap was a garish orange and made entirely of plastic. He picked it up, and looked up just in time to see Trip pull a matching gun from under the bed. His husband levelled it to his chest and fired, sending a foam dart whizzing across the bed. 

“Oh,” Malcolm said, realisation sinking in, and a sly smile suddenly appearing on his face. He cocked the children’s toy and watched as the colour drained from Trip’s face and he threw himself from the bed. 

“It’s on!” The Brit roared as he lunged after him, chasing him from the bedroom and along the corridor, following the sound of laughter the echoed through the house.

**Author's Note:**

> Malcolm Reed, eternal dork. I need to see him with a nerf gun now... 
> 
> anyways, I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
